


I Can Tell You Mean It 'Cause You're Shaking

by alexenglish



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Canon, First Time, M/M, Noubadour, Porn with Feelings, Virgin Niall
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-01
Updated: 2017-11-01
Packaged: 2019-01-28 00:13:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12593720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alexenglish/pseuds/alexenglish
Summary: Niall thinks falling in love with your best friend should come with instructions.





	I Can Tell You Mean It 'Cause You're Shaking

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dearmrsawyer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dearmrsawyer/gifts).



> Noubadour(TM) aka the night Louis attended Niall's show at the Troubadour, and the subsequent meltdown on my dash, happened in September so obviously I had to write porn about it, so obviously here we are even if it's a month and some-odd change late. 
> 
> this is for Jamila who deserves all the Nouis in the entire world. I HOPE YOU LOVE IT.
> 
> all the thanks and love to Steph for coining the term Noubadour(TM), and listening to me bitch and moan about this the entire time I was writing it, AND betaing it -- you're champion of my heart.

Niall isn’t really thinking when he finds Louis outside smoking with some of the other lads. Niall marches over and tugs on his shirt sharply, “C’mere a mo’.”

Louis gives him an unimpressed look, joint burning away between his fingers. Niall pouts at him, knowing it’ll get to him. Niall hardly ever pouts, and Louis is so easy for it when he does. 

“Just a minute,” Niall says. Then amends that, so he doesn’t make himself out to be a liar. “Or two, like. C’mon.”

“Alright, hold your horses, lad,” Louis says, taking another hit before he passes it along and stands. 

The smoke blows over his shoulder, but Niall still picks up the sticky, sour smell of the weed. Niall usually hates it, but he’s drunk enough that that his lizard brain appreciates the sense memories it brings up. Like Louis, and Zayn. Smoking on Bus 1, and laughing themselves senseless, and falling asleep against someone’s side listening to them argue about aliens and whatever else. 

Feels like a lifetime away, the haze of it. No reason to think it wasn’t. 

“Where’re you takin’ me?” Louis asks, tipping into Niall when Niall takes him by the wrist and tugs. He’s all loose limbed, crashing heavily into Niall’s side. Niall’s knees nearly buckle he’s laughing so hard, but Louis shifts his weight so Niall can right himself before leaning against him all over again. 

They’re both so warm -- from the performance, and the beer, and the dry California air. Louis smells like sweat, and cigarettes, and the joint he just smoked; worn-in like he always does at the end of the night. Niall blames the beer for the way he wants to get his mouth on all the weird, gross, soft parts of Louis.

The feeling twists up in his stomach, exhilarating. Laying itself over the giddiness he still feels from the show. He hasn’t come down. Doesn’t really want to. Can’t get over the feeling of being on stage at the _Troubadour_ , all those bodies crowded close. Sweaty faces lit up under the yellow lights, the damp heat of the room towards the end, the echoing cheers. 

Looking up at the balcony and seeing Louis there. That moment before Fool’s Gold, asking Louis to come down even though he knew Louis wouldn’t -- wouldn’t want to be put on the spot, wouldn’t want to steal Niall’s moment -- Niall knew he wouldn’t, but he still said it. Still wanted it. 

Wanted it so fiercely he nearly choked on it. A hot, hard feeling of necessity behind his ribs for a brief moment. All he wanted was Louis to be there next to him, share the moment with him. Look out on the crowd with him, hook an arm around his shoulders, press their sides together, and appreciate it with him.

_I did this. All me._

But Louis shook his head and the feeling was gone, replaced with a shimmering fondness at the stupidly proud look on Louis’ face. Niall grinned because he knew exactly what Louis was thinking, and the show went on.

Niall reckons that was it. That moment is why he’s here now, doing what he’s doing. Why he has a tight, anxious grip on Louis’ wrist, why he’s pulling Louis across the yard whilst whistles follow them back like anyone could possibly know what Niall’s planning.

Maybe they do. Maybe Niall is obvious. 

Maybe it’s easy to see that epiphany Niall had on stage. The one where he decided he was going to do something about all these stupid, new feelings springing hopeful in his chest instead of ignoring them or rationalising them until they’re buried under excuses.

Thinking about it makes him dizzy, heart trying to rage out from behind his ribs as he shoves Louis around the corner of the house. 

It’s dark over here. There’s only a couple feet of wall before the start of the huge windows. Niall pushes Louis against it, tries not to freak out over what he’s decided to do. There are garden lights lining the walkway, making Louis glow soft and golden. Niall’s chest swells and aches.

“What’s this then?” Louis asks, quietly. Playing along. 

Niall stares. 

He doesn’t have anything planned for this. Doesn’t have a little speech about his feelings and not knowing what to do about them, even though that’s very true. All he knows is that he _wants_ _this_ , and he hopes Louis does too. Everything else is a hazy, panicked feeling of static. 

Not in a bad way. 

Niall doesn’t know how that’s possible, but nothing about this is bad. He knows that’s the beer making him think it, the drunken bravado of the moment, but it gives him enough confidence not to second guess the way he crowds Louis against the wall. 

There’s a grin teasing at the corner of Louis’ mouth, and Niall feels a tug on his belt loop, hard enough that he’s forced to take a step closer. He looks down at Louis’ fingers, focuses on the stretch of his waistband, the peek of his white briefs through the gap. He steadies himself, palm on the wall above Louis’ shoulder, watches Louis’ hand slide up to grab at his hip and pull him in the rest of the way.

When Niall picks up his head, Louis is right there. So close all Niall can really focus on his jaw, the shape of his mouth when he says, “Well?” 

His voice is raspy and rough and full of expectation, and Niall feels so fucking overwhelmed. 

He’s not really sure who does it, but their noses are nudging together and their heads are tilting and their lips are pressing together. It starts soft and nice, more of a question than anything else, but then Louis’ fingers are pressing firmly into the soft vee of Niall’s hip, and his teeth are biting down on Niall’s bottom lip, and his tongue is licking into Niall’s mouth. 

The world feels like it’s spinning too quickly, like he’s getting more drunk by kissing Louis, but Niall doesn’t want to pull away. He sacrifices whatever false sobriety he was clinging to so he can keep kissing Louis. 

Louis’ hand slips under Niall’s shirt, the shock of it making Niall shiver. He leans against Louis more heavily, shifts his hand from the wall to cup Louis’ neck and imagines he can feel Louis’ pulse under his palm. Their knees knock together. Louis scratches a thumbnail over Niall’s hipbone and Niall moans. 

Niall is so dizzy and breathless he can’t think about anything at all except how his lips are buzzing, and how his mouth feels raw from Louis’ stubble, and how he’s already hard from the way Louis is so warm and solid against him. 

It feels like ages before they break the kiss. Niall has to slam his eyes shut against the way his head swims. Pressing his face against Louis’ shoulder helps; breathing in the smell of cigarettes clinging to his hair and the alcohol sweat on his neck. 

Louis’ hand comes out from under Niall’s shirt to cup the back of his head. “You’re pissed, love,” he says softly. 

Niall giggles and nods, feeling a bit pathetic and predictable and still so giddy. “Sorry,” he says, setting his teeth to the curve of Louis’ shoulder and gnawing gently. He feels Louis laugh, hand still tangled in Niall’s hair. 

“Don’t vom on me,” Louis says. It sounds like he’s teasing, but it’s probably a real concern with the way Niall’s whole body feels like there are waves crashing through it. 

“You were there,” Niall says, as soon as he feels steady enough to. He’s slurring, words heavy and liquid and thickly Irish against Louis’ shirt.

“Said I would be,” Louis says, snorting. His leg shifts between Niall’s restlessly. It pushes their hips together. Niall feels Louis hot and hard against his thigh. The bottom of Niall’s stomach swoops, giddy. 

“You were watching,” Niall says, tilting his head to nose at the sandpaper underside of Louis’ jaw. He feels Louis’ hand tighten on the back of his neck as he licks over Louis’ pulse, sets his teeth to it. His whole body is aching. He wants to eat Louis right up.

“And that gets me kisses?” Louis asks, amused.

“Might do,” Niall mumbles against the side of Louis’ neck. It already has, but they don’t have to talk about that. Maybe Louis won’t bring that up again. Niall doesn’t want to have to explain himself when he’s so fucked out of his head. 

Or ever.

He untangles himself from Louis slowly, trying to figure out if he’s embarrassed about the whole situation or not. He reckons he’s not at the moment, but maybe in the morning. In the morning he probably will be, so he has no idea why he says,

“Y’should come up, after.” He manages to make it to the wall, leaning back against it. It’s nice when he tilts his head back, helps with the spins. “You, like… If you wanted to.”

“What?” Louis asks. He’s laughing, tilting his body towards Niall. Everything feels like an invitation. His hips angled the way they are, the way he hooks an ankle around Niall’s, the way he grabs Niall’s belt loop again, tugging -- 

Niall feels like Louis is tugging at him, _himself_ , all of him, so he shifts onto his shoulder to face Louis. Louis’ face is a bit blurry. Niall’s head is still so floaty.

“Leave the guest rooms,” Niall says slowly, trying to remember what he wants to ask. “Other people can have them. You should crash with me.” 

He doesn’t know what he expects, but it’s a surprise when Louis stares at him steadily and says, “Okay.” His thumb’s tracing over Niall’s hipbone, slowly and hypnotically. 

Okay. 

 

 

Niall wakes up to Louis in his bed. 

It’s been a while. Longer than Niall likes to think about. He used to wake up with another boy next to him frequently, for years. Got used to it. The way Zayn snuggled, and Harry kicked, and Liam sprawled out. Louis was always a side-sleeper, always curled up in a way that made Niall want to slide in behind him and be the big spoon. 

He’s like that now. On his side, facing Niall, lying on his arm with the other on the mattress between them. Down to his pants, stripped out of his shirt. He’s bony and pale and scruffy, frowning in his sleep like he always has. Two of Niall’s larger pillows are pulled over top of him, blanket shoved down towards his feet.

Which is why Niall woke up. It’s bloody freezing in the room. 

Niall sits up carefully and tugs the blanket up over them both, knowing the pillows aren’t enough to keep Louis from getting cold. Louis is always cold. 

It isn’t morning yet, but it’s close. The room has that grey tinge of predawn light, like the sky’s getting ready to lighten up. Niall looks at Louis for a long moment, feels greedy for it in the still silence of the room. All he can think about is the blurry look on Louis’ face before Niall kissed him, and he must be drunk still because he scoots closer and tucks his hand under Louis’, lacing their fingers together lightly. 

The next time Niall wakes up the bed is empty, blankets at the bottom of the bed again. His stomach drops off the end of a cliff, panic swooping through him before he realises the water in the bathroom is running.

It’s probably safe to assume Louis didn’t decide to leave Niall to wallow in his embarrassment, he tells himself, trying to wrestle his pulse down as he sits up. He’s aching all over, from the show and the absolute lack of self-preservation when it came to alcohol the night before. His throat’s sore. The product of too much beer, laughing too hard, and those smokes he shouldn’t have stolen off Louis. 

There’s a lot crowding his head about last night. Coming home with everyone and drinking. Then drinking some more when that wasn’t enough. Absolutely needing to find Louis and talk to him. Except, instead of talking, Niall snogged his face off.

At least Louis let him stick close after they’d reemerged from the side of the house, lips all bruised and giggling wildly. Niall doesn’t remember if they were subtle, but he doubts it with how pissed he was -- wouldn’t be able to keep his hands off Louis, would he?

He vaguely remembers stumbling upstairs for a shower after a bit, thinking it would help sober him up. It did. Enough that he didn’t get sick all over before he crawled into bed without plugging in his phone. He fell asleep waiting for Louis to follow him up -- fell asleep doubting Louis would follow him up, more like. But Louis was there when he woke up the first time, and Louis is here now. 

That’s a good sign. 

Niall’s stood in his pants by the chest of drawers when Louis emerges from the bathroom, wet hair and pink cheeks. He slows coming out, eyes on Niall. Niall tries not notice the way his shorts are sitting low on his hips and everything about him looks _soft_ , but doesn’t quite manage. 

“Morning,” Niall says, as casually as he can. Doesn’t sound terrible, really.

“Morning.” Louis is smiling. That’s a good sign.

“Uhm, I have to --” Niall gestures towards the bathroom to indicate whatever. “But you should, like, stay.” There’s too much gravity in saying _we should talk_ , but they should talk. 

“I was going to.” Louis laughs. “Waiting for you.”

“Right.” Niall exhales shakily and crosses the room, trying not to think too hard; reminding himself this is Louis and it’s fine. And even though last night probably -- definitely -- changed their friendship forever, it’s Louis. 

Louis, who knows Niall well enough to read all that anxiety on him, stays put as Niall passes him to go into the bathroom, fingertips touching the inside of Niall’s arm for a moment. 

It shouldn’t be a shock, but it is. Niall pauses, blinking at him. 

“We’re okay,” Louis says. Niall really wishes it was a question so they were both unsure about this situation, but it’s not. It’s a statement. Niall nods at him, sparing a watery smile before he retreats behind the door. 

He wees and washes his hands and takes deep breaths, watching his reflection in the mirror. He doesn’t look terrible for how pissed he was last night. Eyes a bit red, a little pale, but what’s new. He cleans his teeth and washes his face, contemplates another shower even though it would be completely redundant. He knows he’s stalling, but he has no idea what to say to Louis other than _sorry_. 

Sorry that drunk Niall’s a fecking idiot who thinks snogging his best friend is a good idea… Who thinks _inviting his best friend to bed_ is a good idea -- which adds a whole other layer of stress to the situation, the fact that he drunkenly propositioned Louis despite having no _idea_ \-- 

Christ.

It’s probably worse that Louis kissed Niall back, and slept in Niall’s bed, and now he’s out there whilst Niall has a crisis in front of the sink.

There’s a reason he waited until he was completely wankered to kiss Louis. If Louis didn’t kiss him back, Niall could blame the kiss on the drinks and avoid the subject for the rest of his life. But Louis kissed back, which means _something_. Something that Niall can’t dismiss as a mistake. Something Niall doesn’t know how to deal with, or what to expect. This isn’t something he’s done before. 

He checks his reflection one more time before he goes back out. It doesn’t look like he’s been panicking, he doesn’t think.

“There he is,” Louis says, grinning. He’s sat up against the headboard, phone in his hand. He drops his phone on the table next to the bed and looks at Niall. “Thought you’d done a runner, maybe climbed out the bathroom window or summat.”

“Washed me face,” Niall says, feeling his cheeks go hot as his heart kicks up. He stops at the end of the bed, shifting his weight from foot to foot. Louis looks alright. Kind of pale and sleepy, but his eyes are bright and amused as he watches Niall hover.

“Come’re,” he says, patting the space next to him, still all mussed up from how Niall was sleeping earlier. Looks like Louis just slipped in right where he was before. 

Niall exhales a laugh and comes around to the side, climbing into bed. His pulse feels sharp in his chest -- his neck, his wrists. He knows he’s not going to panic, but he’s gone warm like he might, palms of his hands prickling. 

He takes a breath and slides closer to Louis, tips his head onto Louis’ shoulder. It’ll be easier to talk like this, if they talk. Won’t even have to look at Louis. He stretches his legs out. His knees are really bony. 

“How do you feel, mate?” Louis asks, after a moment.

“Reflux is a bit shit, but I’ll live,” Niall says. Since it’s polite, he asks, “How do you feel?”

“Alright.” Niall feels Louis sigh, a big breathy one that moves them both. “‘Cept like, trying to piece together last night, yeah?”

The deliberate casualness of his voice makes Niall’s stomach knot. “Yeah,” Niall says, trying not to sound too strained. 

Christ, he’s embarrassed. 

“D’ya wanna help me with that?” Louis asks, when Niall doesn’t offer an explanation. Everything feels so tense.

“Which part?” Niall laughs tightly, resisting the urge to pull his knees to his chest and wrap his arms around them. He messes with the tie on his shorts as he waits for Louis. 

After another moment, Louis echoes his laugh. “The part where you kissed me, you wanker.”

Niall’s heart jumps in his chest as he laughs again, then feels like an idiot for laughing again, which makes him laugh. He’s complete shite at serious conversations. “That did happen,” Niall replies, skin prickling, forced smile even though his head is down. “Was that alright?”

“Yeah, I --” Louis shifts Niall off his shoulder and turns to face him. The look his face is terribly fond. Niall’s own smile softens into something more serious as he waits. “I said we were okay.”

That’s true. “Okay,” Niall says, looking down at his hands. “I’m sorry.” Niall winces, hearing the stress in his voice. 

“For what?” 

Niall bites his bottom lip and shrugs. He doesn’t know how to qualify the apology because he’s not sure what he’s sorry for specifically. Reckons he’s sorry for all of it. 

“For whatever I need to apologize for,” he settles on, with a watery laugh. 

“How about waiting until we were pissed to do it?” Louis says. When Niall looks up at him, he’s down at the bed, jaw sharp, lips a thin line. Louis meets his eyes after a moment, tucks his chin and looks at Niall through his lashes. “Not doing it sooner?”

The ache in Niall’s chest jumps to the top of his throat.

“Not realising it sooner,” Niall admits. Not being privy enough to his own feelings about Louis to know that the way he was missing Louis meant something more. Or knowing, but not _knowing_ \-- “Not knowing I wanted it sooner, maybe.”

There’s a smile on Louis’ lips when he asks, “Wanted what?”

 _You_. 

Niall doesn’t know if he can make himself say it, so he just pitches forward and presses his lips to Louis’, hands settling awkwardly on Louis’ shoulders. Louis makes a noise of surprise and exhales heavily, but then he’s kissing back, hand light on Niall’s side like he’s steadying them both.

A soft, tender feeling settles warmly at the bottom of Niall’s spine, and he thinks maybe they don’t have to talk about this at all. Maybe they could just keep doing this -- kiss until they have to get up, kiss until they can’t anymore -- and never talk about the why of it. 

Louis tastes minty, and smells like Niall’s body wash, and Niall wonders how long he was awake before Niall got up. The stubble on his face is just as rough as it was last night, scraping Niall’s mouth as they kiss, but his probably isn’t any better. 

They kiss for a long time, long enough that Niall loses his train of thought. Long enough that all the anxiety that was steadily building inside of him settles into something much smaller and more manageable. Long enough that his knees ache from the way he’s got his weight on them, but he doesn’t move, doesn’t want to break the moment. 

Eventually it does break. They pull back blinking at each other, breathing heavily.

“Tell me about it then,” Louis chuckles, corner of his mouth quirking up in a smile. 

“About what?” Niall’s dizzy, buzzing. Doesn’t know what Louis means by it. 

“Well there's a reason for all this,” Louis says slowly. His thumb drags along Niall’s ribs, so soft Niall barely registers it. Niall’s heart is pounding so hard, he reckons Louis can feel the flex of it under his palm. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

“Louis --” 

“This is important,” Louis says quietly. The look on his face is so serious Niall wants to laugh again; doesn’t know what else to do. “You can’t just kiss a mate and not have a reason.”

“It’s possible,” Niall says slowly, settling back. Louis lets him go easily. 

“Would you?” Louis asks, eyes steady on Niall’s face. 

At this rate, Niall’s blush is never going to go away. It’ll just keep getting worse and worse until he's permanently red.

“Never let me get away with anything,” Niall says, trying to keep his voice light. He reckons they both know he wouldn’t. 

Anxiety crawls up his spine again; leaves a lump in his stomach like it was never gone. He hates how stuck his words are. It’s obvious Louis wants this -- somehow, someway -- but Niall still doesn’t know how much he should put himself out there. 

“Obviously there’s a reason,” Niall says quietly, rearranging himself so he’s not sitting on his knees anymore. He crosses his legs, fidgets into a more comfortable position, doesn’t look at Louis. 

It’s quiet for a moment. 

“Niall,” Louis groans, big and dramatic. Niall winces and looks at him, mouth twisting apologetically, but Louis is already scooting closer. The knobby bits of their knees kiss as Louis cups Niall’s face in his hands. “Nialler.”

“Louis,” Niall says, arching an unimpressed eyebrow. Or, as unimpressed as he can make it, he’s pretty fucked up over this whole thing. 

“C’mon. S’just me.” Louis smiles, big and encouraging.

“Exactly,” Niall mumbles, before grabbing Louis and looking at him seriously. With his fingertips pressing into the thin skin of Louis’ wrists, he can feel Louis’ pulse going absolutely mad. Heavy and quick. Niall takes a deep breath. “I like you.”

Louis laughs, dropping his hands and throwing his head back. It’s delightful when he laughs with his whole body, infectious. Niall tries not to smile, teeth biting into his bottom lip. 

“Yeah, _obviously_ ,” he says, rolling his eyes before he tips his whole body forward and catches Niall’s mouth with his. Niall lets out a muffled noise of surprise, kissing back automatically as Louis keeps scooting closer until he’s nearly in Niall’s lap. 

His hands don’t stop moving. In Niall’s hair, on his neck, his shoulder, cupping his side, sliding down to squeeze his hips. It’s making Niall feel drunk again, like the lack of oxygen and _holy feckin’ shit_ factor is enough to ignite a buzz all on its own. And Niall reckons it is, endorphin overload and all that -- Niall doesn’t know if alcohol does that considering it’s a downer, but --

Louis bites Niall’s bottom lip and tugs, making Niall’s dick jump in his pants and hot goosebumps break out over his skin. That was nice. Shit, he’d probably let Louis chew on his lip for ages if it meant Louis would stay in his lap. 

Niall holds onto Louis’ thighs, not knowing what else to do with his hands. They’re there. They can stay there. It’s easy not to think about it at all, just leave them and hope for the best, fingertips pressing into the muscle whenever Louis touches him in a particularly delicious way.

Which is frequently. It’s like six years of button pushing made Louis intimately aware of all the places he can touch Niall to make him whine, and squirm, and get him hard. 

He’s so focused on kissing Louis and being touched by Louis, he nearly misses it when Louis takes his hand and guides it to his dick. Niall tries not to overthink it and adjusts his wrist so he’s got ahold of the hot, hard line of Louis’ cock through his shorts. He feels thick and heavy under Niall’s palm.

The angle of his wrist is off, everything feels so awkward. He can feel panic crash warmly down his spine and he’s not going to freak out about this, he’s _not_. He knows he wants to touch Louis, he knows he wants Louis to touch him, but -- 

Niall breaks the kiss and slides his hand up to grip Louis’ waist, pulling away enough so he can see Louis’ face. It’s embarrassing that Niall doesn’t know how to do this. Has no idea how to touch another lad like this. 

“Sorry,” Louis says, sheepishly. “If you don’t want to -- we don’t have to --”

“No,” Niall says quickly, flapping his hands helplessly before grabbing Louis’ wrist, steadying them both. “I do.” He _really_ does. “I just haven’t, like. Before.” He doesn’t say that outloud very often, if ever. Niall looks at their laps, the way Louis is on top of him. It's not actually comfortable now that he’s not distracted by kissing. 

Louis’ mouth drops open before slamming shut again. He frowns. “With a bloke? Seriously, I’d thought…” His hand flutters.

What.

“No, I mean… I mean, in general?” Framing it as a question always feels like it’ll soften the blow, but it makes Niall sound unsure. “I’ve never --” he flutters his hand like Louis just did. “In general.”

“Bullshit!” Louis says, loud laugh bursting out of him -- eyes all scrunched up, mouth wide and loud. He leans back and climbs out of Niall’s lap, kneeling in front of him. “C’mon, seriously, Nialler.”

“I’m serious,” Niall says, hearing the pout in his own voice. He can’t help it. He figured Louis would laugh straight off, but part of him hoped Louis might not. “I’ve never.”

“Niall!” Louis giggles. His eyes are bright and amused. “You’re taking the piss, babe. You’re a popstar, people throwing themselves at you always. You -- you’ve dated people. Not loads, but --”

Niall’s mouth twists. His face is blazing hot. “I like taking it slow.” 

It always sounds so old-fashioned out loud, but he’s always wanted to know the person before trying to shag them. It wasn’t easy considering how much he was jetting off to all corners of the world, so it never happened. All his relationships have been short-lived, really. Not enough time to decide if he was in a good place to get on with it.

“Snail’s pace, or?” Louis teases, but he isn’t laughing at Niall anymore, eyes darting all over Niall’s face curiously. 

Niall can’t keep eye contact, too wound up for it. Too wound up for anything other than fidgeting uncertainly and listening to the hard thud of his pulse in his ears. 

“It just didn’t happen,” he says, with a shrug. 

“I didn’t know,” Louis says, sounding apologetic. It sucks, but at least he isn’t laughing anymore.

 _I didn’t tell you_ , Niall thinks. He didn’t really tell anyone. At first it didn’t matter, then it felt like it’d matter too much so he left it. But now, it kind of matters.

“Should we stop?” Louis asks, fingers brushing Niall’s knee gently. A steadying point of contact. It’s such a Louis thing to do. All Niall wants is kiss him again. 

“No, not unless y’ want to,” Niall says, tilting his chin stubbornly. He doesn’t want to stop. 

He _really_ doesn’t want to stop. 

“I’m supposed to be, whatsit, flattered by this, aren’t I?” Louis grins after a moment, looking a bit smug. “First person Nialler wants to shag.”

Niall scrunches his nose. “You’re not that special. I’ve _wanted_ before,” he says, grabbing Louis’ hands as they settle high on his thighs and start sliding upwards. He doesn’t stop them, but he slows them. “But I _haven’t_. Wasn’t right.”

“So I _am_ special, aren't I?” Louis asks, challenge in his voice. “If it’s right?” It’s a tease, he’s fishing for compliments, but Niall reckons it’d be alright to take the bait. He wants Louis to understand. 

“You’re one of my best friends,” Niall says. He has to look at his lap again. Louis’ hands have gone still on their own, now Niall’s palms are just damp against Louis’ skin for no good reason. He doesn’t move them. “I mean, I’ve known you forever, right? So s’not an issue... Maybe know you too well, if ’m being honest.”

Louis makes an amused noise in his throat. Niall keeps looking at their hands, their bitten down nails. The spaces between his fingers ache with how much he wants to hold Louis’ hand, but he keeps still. 

“That’s it, innit?” Niall says. “That’s the thing that’s held me back. Wanting to really know the person I want to shag, but you know --” He meets Louis eyes even though he can barely stand how fond the look on Louis’ face is looking at him. Absolutely ridiculous. “And I -- I love you, like...” Niall picks up his hands and wipes them on the top of the duvet nervously, twisting his fingers in the fabric for something to hold onto. “Properly.”

The grin on Louis’ face is sharp and toothy, and unbearably pleased. 

“I love you too,” he says. “Can we snog now?”

Niall laughs out loud and nods, lets Louis push him down until he’s on his back. His legs fall open for Louis automatically. They fit together nicely, half-hard dicks snug against each other as Louis stretches over him. 

It isn’t exactly new. He’s been on his back plenty with Louis hovering like this, looking down on Niall. Usually he’s getting pinned down, or tickled, or having food smashed into his hair -- this is entirely different.

“Hey,” Louis says softly. 

“Hi,” Niall says, pulse at the top of his throat. He feels so soft for Louis, feels the thrilling ache in his chest gentle into something just as overwhelming, but far less urgent. “You’re pink.”

“Get pink,” Louis says. “When I’m worked up.”

“I know.” Niall rolls his eyes. “Seen that plenty.” 

Except not like this. Usually it’s when Louis is performing, or playing footie, or being rowdy. Or when Niall’s walked in on Louis wanking, or -- memorably, a few times -- shagging. 

It’s never been because of Niall like this. Never been because he's turned on by Niall. 

Louis doesn’t bother responding. He drops his weight onto Niall deliberately, grinding down.

“Shit,” Niall hisses, grabbing at Louis’ arms as he does it again. Slow, lazy thrusts. Enough of a tease to get Niall hard, but not enough to do anything about it properly. 

“What do you want to do?” Louis asks conversationally, hands planted on either side of Niall as he moves his hips in little circles. He sounds convincingly unaffected. Niall might believe it if his prick wasn’t thick and hard against Niall’s own. 

“Whatever,” Niall says, trying not to pant too obviously, finally getting enough brain cells together to thrust back against Louis. The friction from all the fabric between them is excruciatingly good, teasing the line of _too painful_ so closely Niall doesn’t know whether to push into it or shy away from it.

Louis moans, little noise punching out of him softly. Niall loves that noise.

“When you say you’ve never,” Louis grunts, planting his hand on Niall’s waist so he has leverage. He pulls his hips back they’re not pressed as closely together, so that their dicks are barely touching. 

Niall whines and shoves his hips up, but Louis keeps him pinned, slides their clothed cocks together teasingly. 

“You mean like, _never_?” Louis asks. It takes a moment for Niall to know what the hell he’s talking about.

“Yeah, like --” Niall twists so he press the side of his face to the mattress, breathing heavily as Louis rubs against him maddeningly slow. “No one’s made me come like -- like you’re about to do if you’d just --”

“Don’t rush me,” Louis gripes, hand firm on Niall’s hip to hold him down. Niall moans, thinking about finger-shaped bruises on his pale hips later, tomorrow, and _wants it_. He nudges his hips up; Louis’ grip gets tighter. 

“Fuck,” Niall moans. “Why does it feckin’ matter --”

“S’kinda hot, right? Humor me,” Louis says. He’s panting now, giving up the pretense of not being exactly as turned on as Niall. His arms are shaking, Niall doesn’t think he can keep it up much longer, but he’ll humor Louis. Of course he will. “So you’ve had your cock touched -- by someone else?”

“Yeah -- yeah just like, grabbed through my trousers --”

“Didn’t get a hand on you properly?” Louis finally drops his weight again, grinding against Niall. Their chests press together and the sensation zips unexpectedly down Niall’s spine -- the warm, soft tease of Louis’ skin is unexpectedly good when they’re all wound up like this --

Niall gasps, digging his fingers into Louis’ shoulders. “No, fuck, never,” he admits, whining. Their lips meet clumsily as Niall shifts his hips and finds a better angle, groaning against Louis’ mouth. His cock is going to chafe soon, and he doesn’t fucking care. It’s good. So, so good.

“Y’wanna come in your pants?” Louis asks, nuzzling against Niall’s cheek. 

“No, no,” Niall says, slowing his hips. “Want you t’ touch me. Suck me. Something.”

“Something?” Louis laughs with a laugh, grabbing at Niall’s arse and rolling them onto their sides. Niall feels two fingers tease along his crack, pressing against the thin fabric of his pants suggestively. He gasps, arching at the small of his back. 

“Fuck me,” Niall agrees, hips pressing forward for friction. 

Louis bites at Niall’s jaw and shoves his hand down the back of Niall’s pants, palming an arse cheek roughly. “How d’ya know you’ll even like that?” Louis asks quietly. 

“I own toys,” Niall says, exasperated. “Touch meself.” 

The groan Louis lets out is so low it’s nearly a growl. “God, that’s sexy.”

“S’just wanking.” Niall bites Louis’ bottom lip sharply. “Focus.”

“I’m focusing,” Louis says with a sigh. His hands slide up Niall’s back, warm and damp between Niall’s shoulder blades. “Thinking about everything I wanna do t’ you.”

“You could tell me about that,” Niall suggests, nosing at Louis’ jaw. Louis’ head tilts obediently and Niall kisses to his throat, firmly presses his tongue against Louis’ pulse in a way that makes Louis gasp. Best way to get at that sensitive neck without leaving marks, Niall’s learned.

He does it a few more times for the way Louis squirms, then lets off, ignoring the urge to suck bruises into Louis’ throat. Wishing he could lay some claim. Wants people to know he was here in bed with Louis. Wants people to _see_ Louis was his, even if it’s just for this moment.

“Thought about this, y’know,” Louis says quietly.

“Have ye?” Niall asks, swallowing around the lump in his throat. He doesn’t know if he believes Louis, but it’s what he wants to hear.

“Yeah,” Louis laughs. “For ages.”

Niall lets out a snort. “Y’ don’t have to say that,” he says, pulling back enough to see the soft and serious look on Louis’ face.

“Figures you wouldn’t believe me.” Louis rolls his eyes.

Niall doesn’t, but that’s not the point. “I thought we were going to shag.”

“You wanted me t’ tell you about it, so I am,” Louis says pointedly.

Niall stays quiet, listens to the way they’re breathing, harsh and out of sync. They’re so close he can see the way Louis’ pulse flutters beneath the thin skin under his ear. 

“I’ve _thought_ about it,” Louis goes on. The tone of his voice is different, more deliberate, huskier. The sound of it makes Niall’s spine tremble. “Thought about having you like this. Getting to touch you.” Louis touches Niall’s side, slides a thumb over Niall’s nipple whilst he squirms. 

The corner of Louis’ mouth quirks up in a smile, “Loved it when you came off stage buzzin’ like mad. You’d get all red and shite, bouncing off the walls.”

“Lou?” Niall asks, blinking at him. Because that’s past tense. That’s them, and the band, and -- fingertips trail down Niall’s sternum. Louis doesn’t look at him.

“Always thought about what’d it be like to pin you to the wall and make you shut the fuck up,” Louis says, after a moment. “Kiss y’ --” he leans up and pecks Niall on the mouth softly. Niall exhales, stomach fluttering so intensely it’s making him feel ill. “Get me hand on your prick --” Louis slides his hand down and grips Niall through his pants. 

Niall groans and arches, giving Louis’ hand more room. Louis gets Niall’s pants down with a couple of shoves, and then Niall’s prick is free, slapping wetly against his stomach before Louis wraps a hand around him, and Niall can’t stop his hips from shoving up into the circle of Louis’ fist. 

“ _Oh_ ,” he breathes out, as Louis wanks him firmly. 

“Yeah, just like this,” Louis says, burying his face in Niall’s neck -- or perhaps looking down, Niall isn’t sure; he’s got his own eyes shut tightly for self-preservation, he’s going to nut off quick as anything. 

Niall’s overwhelmed by the feeling of Louis’ soft hand around him, the wet-warm of Louis’ breath over his collar as he pants, the sound of the blankets under them as Niall’s hips squirm to find the best angle. He never thought his blankets were noisy, but it’s so audible over the sound of their breathing --

“Can’t believe I’m the only one to do this,” Louis says. Niall groans in irritation, but it hitches at the end as Louis gives a cheeky twist of his wrist. “It’s sexy like, the only one to get you to this point -- all wet and messy, and desperate.”

“Christ, shut up,” Niall says, without any heat. 

“No one’s ever got you off before,” Louis says, still low and teasing with an added layer of amusement, like he’s willing to tick Niall off completely to talk how he likes. Well -- “No one’s ever had their hand around your prick --”

There’s a hard knot in Niall’s chest, pressing down on his lungs. He knows, he knows, he _knows_. “Just for you,” Niall grunts. There’s some kind of relief in going along with it, giving into whatever it is Louis wants to accomplish with this. 

“I’ve thought about that, too,” Louis says, leaning up to bite Niall’s jaw so hard Niall hisses, eyes snapping open. The ceiling fan spins lazily above them, Niall concentrates on it so he doesn’t come. When Louis continues, it’s quiet. Like a secret. Maybe it is. “Thought about other people touching you. Getting to shag you. Leave bruises on you. Made me massively jealous --”

“You don’t mean that,” Niall says, fighting past the lump in his throat and the heat on his face. It comes out as a gasp, a breath of air. 

Louis chuckles, rubbing his forehead against Niall’s collar. It’s sweaty, but Niall likes it. 

“Fuck yeah I do,” Louis says, letting go of Niall’s prick and settling his damp hand on the curve of Niall’s waist. Niall meets his eyes with a frown, then groans at the look on Louis’ face.

“ _Don’t_ \--” he warns.

“I was properly obsessed with you, mate,” Louis says, grinning. “Still am.”

“Don’t be soppy, Tommo,” Niall says, ignoring that completely. Because it doesn’t make sense. He can’t wrap his head around that. “My dick is going t’ fall off whilst you’re being romantic, like.”

“I’ll tell you later then,” Louis says, rolling on top of Niall. Niall goes with a squeak, clinging to Louis’ arms. Back with Louis on top, then. That familiar view. Louis is a little more pink in the cheeks than earlier, mouth a candy-apple bruise, eyes bright as he looks at Niall -- so fond Niall wants to burst out laughing, shove Louis off, do _something_ \-- 

Louis leans down to kiss Niall again before pulling back and arranging himself between Niall’s legs. The sharp _thud_ of Niall’s heart is nearly painful as he watches Louis look at him all over until he can’t stand it. He flings an arm over his eyes as Louis presses his lips to Niall’s stomach, making it jump under the touch. 

“Christ,” Niall hisses, trying to relax. His prick’s managed to stay hard this entire time, even through all the talking. Probably knows there’s someone with a willing hand and an eager mouth around -- “ _Fuck_.”

Louis bites at Niall’s hip again before dragging his lips over the sharp ridge of the bone, tongue flicking out and licking down the sensitive dip there. 

“Y’gotta --” Niall takes a deep breath, squeezing his eyes shut again. “Y’gotta do somethin’ or I’m going t’ nut all over yer face.”

“Maybe that’s the plan,” Louis says. He sounds smug. There’s probably a stupidly sexy smirk on his face. Niall doesn’t look.

“You can’t just _say th_ \--” Niall cuts off with a choked groan as Louis drags his tongue up the length of Niall’s prick. 

“Shut up,” Louis says lightly, before he licks over Niall again. 

Niall listens to his pulse thunder in his ears and concentrates on breathing instead of focusing on the tight, hot feeling between his hips as Louis swallows him down. He can barely stand it, body buzzing all over as he tries to keep from coming. 

Louis mouth is perfect. Tight and wet and warm, going so slow Niall’s going to _die_. 

“Lou, fuck,” Niall hisses, as Louis speeds up. There’s a hand accompanying his mouth and Niall is actually going to die, he’s going to -- “Fuck, fuck --”

The noises are obscene. Filthy wet noises, little moans from Louis like he’s enjoying himself -- which he might be, Niall doesn’t know if it’s _fun,_ he’s never done it -- Niall feels like he can’t catch his breath, groaning Louis’ name instead of doing something useful like breathing -- 

“Oh my god,” Niall whimpers. 

And comes. 

Louis pulls off, sputtering. “Christ, warn a bloke.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Niall says, sitting up and reaching for Louis. It’s terrible, everything is terrible. There’s a disgruntled look on Louis’ face. It’s a bit ruined by the fact that there’s spit smeared all over his chin. And jizz, probably -- It’s _terrible_. “I’m so sorry, oh my god.” 

Louis rolls his eyes and pounces on Niall, shoving his tongue in Niall’s mouth. His mouth is warm and plush, and Niall thinks _used_ and then _I did that_. He grunts, jaw going soft for Louis, and then he tastes himself -- which is weird and a little gross, but Louis has him trapped -- legs tight around one of his thighs, dick soft and sensitive between them --

They kiss roughly for a moment until Niall body remembers he hasn’t caught his breath and he has to pull away to gulp in air. 

“That was, uh --”

“Hot,” Louis supplies, nuzzling against Niall’s face. It isn’t gentle, but Niall likes it, hands going tight on Louis’ hips. He’s not really sure when he grabbed ahold of them. “That was so fucking hot.”

Louis’ cock is pressing into Niall’s stomach, hot and hard through the fabric of Louis’ pants. 

“You really should fuck me,” Niall blurts. His brain catches up with his mouth and he freezes. Oh _god_ \--

Louis goes still on top of him. Niall’s face gets unbearably hot. Everything is terrible.

“Uhm?”

“I mean,” Niall says, feeling his heart beating hard in his chest. He feels a bit frantic so he laughs. “If you wanted to. I know you said -- But you don’t have to. I could just blow you and we can… not.” Niall laughs again. 

The pounding in Niall’s ears get worse when Louis rolls off him. Did he fuck up that badly? Louis could say no, Niall wouldn’t _care_ \-- The fact that Louis has had Niall’s prick in his mouth is enough, it’s definitely enough --

“The fact that you think I’d say no…” Louis lies on his back and turns his head, grinning at Niall. “I’d love to bugger ya, Nialler.”

“Don’t,” Niall groans, but he’s grinning. “There’s slick and condoms in the bathroom.”

“Oh, I have to get them?” Louis asks, propping himself up on his elbow to look down at Niall. 

“Can’t feel me legs,” Niall says honestly, raising an eyebrow. Louis scoffs, but he leans in and presses a kiss to Niall’s lips before getting up. 

Niall watches the lean lines of his back as he goes, eyes lingering on the swell of his arse. Louis has always had a great body, but Niall didn’t really let himself look. Not to _enjoy_. Now he feels like he can appreciate every bit of Louis without shame. 

So he does. He looks until Louis disappears and looks some more when Louis reappears. The messy tangle of his hair, hooded eyes -- dark blue in the morning light. The sharp line of his jaw and collar. The soft curve of his hips and the thick of his thighs, the bulge of his cock in his pants -- half hard now that he’s been distracted, but still mouth-watering. 

The emotion that swells in Niall’s chest is completely predictable; he wonders how he went so long without realising he was in love with Louis. 

“What’re you thinkin’ about?” Louis asks, dropping the condoms and lube on the bed.

“Your thighs,” Niall says. Then, when Louis shoves his pants down his legs and steps out of them, “Your prick.” 

Louis’ cock hangs heavy between his legs, thick as Niall suspected. Niall swallows roughly as Louis grins. “Both those answers are acceptable,” he says approvingly, climbing back on the bed. 

He’s touching Niall again before he even realizes he wants to be touched. A damp, hot hand on Niall’s knee. The way Louis seems to need to be touching Niall constantly is soothing. Reassuring. 

Niall sits up and meets him in the middle, trying not to be self-conscious about how _naked_ he is -- the fold of his stomach seems larger than normal, his soft cock seems smaller, his legs seem thinner. It’s hard to understand why Louis would want this, especially as badly as he seems to, but he _does_ , so --

“Before I forget,” Niall says, grinning. Nerves crash through him, fluttering lightly in his stomach as he holds out an imaginary card for Louis, hoping he’ll catch on. It’s silly. It’s so silly, but Niall can’t help himself.

The corner of Louis’ mouth twitches hard, but he doesn’t laugh. He pretends to take it and looks at it, frowning. “What’s this, then?”

“My V card,” Niall deadpans. 

Louis throws his head back and laughs loudly. One of them big laughs that comes from his chest, eyes squeezed shut, mouth open. There’s a sweet spread of pink over his cheeks and down his chest, and he’s sweaty, and smells like sweat and jizz, and he’s the most beautiful he’s ever been.

“I fuckin’ love you,” Louis says, once he’s caught his breath. It’s a casual declaration Niall’s heard hundreds of times before, if not thousands, but it feels new and bright and weighted with so much more feeling today. 

“I know,” Niall hums. 

Louis tackles him a little too hard, all their bony bits smacking together. The back of Niall’s head hits the bed and Louis’ hands are warm on his cheeks, steadying him before they kiss. Their tongues slide together, slick, panting into each other’s mouths. 

Niall grips the small of Louis’ back, nails digging into the sweaty skin there, pulling Louis into him. Louis presses closer obediently, hard prick nudging Niall’s own as he stretches over Niall. Louis groans when Niall drags his nails up his back, arching towards him, getting even closer. 

There’s a bite and a tug on Niall’s bottom lip, and the kisses get rougher. Louis’ hand slides into his hair and tugs until Niall tips his head back. Louis sets his teeth to Niall’s neck -- his collar, his chest. Licking and biting and sucking his way down Niall’s body until he’s back between Niall’s legs, watching Niall with bright eyes.

“Good?” Louis asks, reaching back for the lube and condoms. Niall scoots up to give him more room and lets his legs fall open again, keeping one foot planted.

“Perfect,” Niall exhales, feeling his stomach jump with nerves. It’s just Louis. That’s it. It’s _just_ Louis. This is what he’s been waiting for. Someone who’d be careful. Someone who’d mean it. 

The way Louis is looking at him… Niall doesn’t doubt he means it. 

“Just tell me if y’ need anything,” Louis says, sliding his hands up Niall’s thighs. Quick and reassuring. He grins, “Tell me if it sucks.”

“It won’t suck, Tommo,” Niall says, nudging his knee against Louis’ side gently. His palms have gone slick again from the stress of it. He feels shaky down to his bones, full of nerves. 

Louis ducks down and presses a kiss to Niall’s knee, lips right over the rough line of his scar. Niall’s heart nearly beats out of his chest. He’s so gone. He’s so, so gone. 

Louis takes his time getting to where Niall wants him. The kiss to his knee leads to kisses along his inner thigh, leads to Louis sinking his teeth into the pale skin high up on the inside and _sucking_ _hard_ whilst Niall yelps. 

There’s a wicked grin on Louis’ face and the rosy beginnings of a bruise on Niall’s leg when he pulls back, pressing his thumb into it and making Niall hiss.

“Possessive bastard,” Niall says. Can’t keep himself from sounded a bit delighted about the fact. 

Louis shrugs, but the smug smile on his face is all Niall needs.

When Louis gets to his prick, Niall slams his eyes shut again. He wants to watch, but he knows he’ll get all fidgety and embarrassed about being all spread out for Louis. Being so eager and not knowing what he’s doing and wanting it _so much_ \-- 

“Breathe,” Louis reminds him. 

And licks up his prick. 

Niall groans and laughs, and groans once more when Louis drags his lips up the shaft, sucking at the head. Niall gets hard again in no time with Louis’ mouth on him, cock aching as Louis cups his bollocks and strokes over him, then lower. 

He holds his breath whilst Louis teases a finger against him, stroking gently whilst he sucks for a bit. Niall wills himself to relax into it and trust Louis.

After a bit, Louis pulls off and then there’s the click of the lube’s top and the wheezing, wet noise as Louis squeezes some out before he nudges Niall’s legs open, dry hand spread wide on his thigh. 

The lube is cold. Niall’s ears are ringing. 

“Babe,” Louis laugh. Niall pries his eyes open and picks his head up. “Y’ look like you’re gunna shit yourself.”

“That’s… really not funny, all things considered.” Niall raises an eyebrow whilst Louis laughs at him. 

“This is supposed to be good, yeah?” Louis’ dry hand wraps around Niall’s cock, wanks him slowly. “Want you to feel good.”

“I will,” Niall says, breath hitching. “I _do_.”

“Nialler.” 

“Tommo,” Niall whines, wiggling his hips. “ _Please_.”

“Always so polite,” Louis says, and drags his fingers through the lube between Niall’s legs. 

Niall’s eyes flutter as Louis opens him up, concentrating on literally everything else besides the fact that his best friend has fingers up his bum. It’s hard to ignore because it feels good. The stretch of it, the way Louis is so careful. 

The way his voice is deep and rough when he says, “Takin’ me so well, love.”

Niall melts into the sheets and lets himself go, teeth biting into his bottom lip as Louis adds more fingers. The hot, syrupy ache between his legs is getting so intense; he feels so desperate for _more_. He’s not sure how to ask for it, so he just bites into his bottom lip and tries not to get too close to coming.

When he chances a glance down at Louis, it’s almost too much. Louis isn’t looking between his legs like Niall expected, he’s watching Niall’s face instead. Their eyes meet and Louis’ smiles, head ducking and wrist twisting firmly to distract Niall.

It works. Niall’s distracted. 

Everything feels like it fast forwards once Louis finishes opening him up. The condom wrapper crinkles as Louis gets it open; then he’s rolling it on and lubing himself up, wiping his hand on the duvet -- which Niall will be pissed about later, they both know he will -- and then that’s his _cock_ and -- 

It’s achy and slow, and Niall’s body is so hot he feels like he might combust. 

It feels like forever before Louis is inside of him, and then it feels like even longer before Niall starts breathing again. Louis is hovering over Niall, hands planting on either side of him whilst Niall clings to his biceps, whining when Louis adjusts his hips to a more comfortable position.

“Hi,” Louis says, when they’re finally settled. He’s panting harshly, chest moving quick and sharp. There’s a gloss of sweat over his face and neck along with that delicious sex flush.

“Hey,” Niall replies, voice rasping out of his throat. 

“My cock is inside you,” Louis says. There’s a wicked grin on his lips.

Niall honest to god giggles. “Shut up,” he says, attempting to sound stern. 

“This is mad, love,” Louis says quietly.

“I know.” Niall shuts his eyes against the hot feeling that surges behind them. It’s mad that they’re doing this. Mad that Louis wants this, mad that Niall might cry over how much Louis wants this -- how much he wants Niall. 

“Hey,” Louis says softly. Niall opens his eyes, blinking and exhaling a breath before he looks at Louis again. 

Louis holds up a hand between them. They both watch as it trembles gently.

Niall swallows around the hard lump in his throat and grabs Louis around the back of his neck, tugging him into a kiss. Louis comes easily, dropping more of his weight onto Niall so they’re pressed together as much as they possibly can be. 

Louis moves his hips whilst they’re kissing, short thrusts that make Niall moan against Louis’ mouth. His breath hitches every time Louis pushes back in, working himself deeper, thighs slapping against the back of Niall’s own as he speeds up. It feels so fucking good. Louis surrounding him, pressing him down into the mattress, stretching Niall out around his cock. 

It’s surreal, maybe. Especially when Louis shifts his weight and pulls back on his knees, hands gripping Niall and pulling him in. Niall gets to watch Louis, _Louis_ fuck him and fuck him well. 

The angle is better like this, Louis’ thrusts are short and rough, pushing all the air out of Niall’s lungs. His cock slaps wetly against his belly on every thrust. Louis gives Niall a few lazy tugs, but Niall shakes his head frantically -- he’s going to come if Louis keeps at it. 

“C’mon, s’not a competition,” Louis says, grabbing Niall’s waist with both hands and pressing his thumbs to the soft, sensitive indents at the base of his hips. He slides his hands up Niall’s sides, making goosebumps breakout all over Niall’s torso. 

“You can come, then,” Niall says, mustering as much indignation as he can given the circumstances. 

It’s meant to be more of a joke than a dare, but Louis is Louis. “Alright,” Louis says lightly, shouldering one of Niall’s legs. 

“What -- _Oh_ \--” Niall moans loudly as Louis’ dick rubs against his prostate for a fleeting moment, long enough that the base of Niall’s spine goes tight with the need to come, like he can’t possibly keep himself from it much longer.

He doesn’t need to, Louis only lasts for a little while longer, thrusting quick and sloppy until his hips stutter and he thrusts deep, coming inside the condom with a low groan. Niall can feel the flex of his prick inside him, and Niall expects him to just stop and roll off, finish Niall off another way, but he keeps going through his orgasm, head of his cock teasing against Niall’s prostate. 

He leans in to kiss Niall, left hand tangling with Niall’s, slotting their fingers together tightly whilst his right hand jerks Niall off with tight, sure strokes. It takes a couple of tugs and Niall is fucking gone, coming hard over Louis’ knuckles, squeezing his hand so hard he’s sure he hears bones creaking. 

“Ah, fuck,” Louis hisses, pulling out. The loss makes Niall whimper, body flexing around nothing. Louis strips off the condom and flings it somewhere -- Niall doesn’t want to know -- before pouncing on Niall and kissing him again. 

Come and sweat smears between them, but Louis doesn’t seem to _care_ , he just keeps kissing Niall frantically like there’s nothing else he could possibly doing. He bites at Niall’s bottom lip when Niall breaks away laughing. 

It’s a giddy laugh. He feels so fucking giddy.

“That was so perfect,” Louis says. He’s laughing too, on top of Niall, hands on Niall’s face and in his hair. Niall’s stomach squirms at the attention, but he lets Louis look, kisses him back when he inevitably ducks in for more. 

“You’re so sexy,” Louis says. 

“You’re so fuckin’ amazing,” Louis says. 

“I can’t believe you let me do that,” Louis says, voice gone quiet and breathless in a way that makes Niall’s heart jerk sharply. “Can’t believe you…” Louis laughs and presses his face to Niall’s throat. _Hides_. “Wanted that for so long.”

“Louis,” Niall says, squeezing his eyes shut. He can’t handle this at all. 

It’s one thing before the orgasms, but after? Aren’t they supposed to be napping? Don’t men fall asleep after they come? Why does this have to be another thing television’s lied to him about? He’s supposed to be exasperated, wiggling out from under Louis’ dead weight as he happily snoozes in a post-orgasmic stupor. 

“Why won’t you let me --” Louis comes out of hiding to glare at Niall. “I love you,” he says fiercely. “I have like, _love_ -loved you for a long time. I was stupid and didn’t say anything for years --”

“Louis,” Niall whines.

“Shut it, you,” Louis says. “Why can’t you just --” Louis makes a frustrated noise. Niall feels a smile tugging at his lips despite himself. “Just accept that you’re amazing and I’ve wanted to touch your prick for ages. That and like, tell you how fit you are and go on about how brilliant you are every day of me life.”

“You do that,” Niall reminds him. His face his blazing hot, but everything Louis is saying has settled somewhere deep and aching in his chest. “Think you said I was fearless, or summat.”

“And you are!” Louis squeezes his hip for emphasis. “Look at us. I spend me golden years pining… You figure out your feelings and lose your fuckin’ virginity the next day.” Niall bats at Louis’ face to shut him up, but all Louis does is grab his wrist and press a kiss to his pulse. “Fuckin’ fearless.”

“Okay, I believe you,” Niall says, mostly to shut Louis up. Louis probably knows that, but the grin on his face is smug anyway. 

“Good,” Louis says, nodding sharply. 

They look at each other for a moment. Louis’ eyes are soft and fond, and Niall loves him so much. 

“Here --” Louis holds out an invisible card. Niall bites down on his grin and manages to look at Louis seriously.

“What’s this, then?” he asks, squinting. “Don’t have me glasses.”

Louis is silent for a long moment, watching Niall’s face. 

Niall squirms.

“Boyfriend card,” Louis says eventually, voice deceptively light. Niall stomach swoops, so hard it's dizzying. He can actually feel the quick pounding of Louis’ heart where their chests are pressed together. “If you want it.”

Niall pretends to take it, thinking of all the reasons he might actually turn Louis down. There’s half a dozen crowding at the front of his mind. The band, the press, their friends, their _friendship_ … ‘Course these were all things Niall didn’t give a shite about when they were about to shag, so he reckons he shouldn’t start now.

“Extremely rare these,” Niall says, pocketing the imaginary boyfriend card in the imaginary pocket of the imaginary shirt he doesn't have on. “I think I’d like to keep it.”

“Oh good,” Louis says. And Niall didn’t realise how tense he was until he lets it go, weight dropping onto Niall all at once, body going soft.

“You were worried I’d say no.” Niall blinks at Louis. 

“Never know what’s in that head of yours, love.” Louis shrugs, smiling softly. “Never know what you want.” 

“You,” Niall says easily. It didn’t seem easy before. It seemed terrifying. But it’s really, very simple. “Just want you.”

**Author's Note:**

> The V card/boyfriend card bit is a little reference to Nouis' ticketing system they did on tour. Jamila made [a gifset](http://dearmrsawyer.tumblr.com/post/164969212908) which is where I got the idea<3
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> [reblog on tumblr!](http://queerlyalex.tumblr.com/post/167018253872/for-dearmrsawyer-because-jamila-deserves-nouis)


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